


we were shining

by great_whatsit



Category: Ramrod (1947)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:27:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27009595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/great_whatsit/pseuds/great_whatsit
Summary: Yet another story of ostensibly straight cowboys who, when it comes down to it, aren't actually straight at all.
Relationships: Dave Nash/Bill Schell, Dave Nash/Connie Dickason





	we were shining

They met as hired hands on a cattle drive to Kansas; Bill was 18, Dave 25. They circled one another for almost a week, Dave suspicious of Bill’s easy grin, Bill of Dave’s close shave and buttoned up manner. Bill called him ‘kid’ with acid in his voice, dismissing Dave like he could smell his lack of experience in this rough, real world. Soon enough, though, ‘Kid’ had turned into a term of affection, and they were thick as thieves: riding, drinking, and fighting, side by side. They fit together effortlessly on the trail, reading one another’s movements and managing the herd as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

The first time they fucked was in a boarding house in Abilene. Bill had Dave’s hands pinned to the flimsy wall; Dave came with Bill's mouth on his neck.

+++

They rode together for years. Dave the straight laced, hard-drinking friend of the scoundrel so charismatic he could talk his way out of anything. They grew up on the trails between Texas and Kansas: learning how to handle their liquor, how to deal with hard men, and how to ride through the dust unseen and untrackable. Dave watched Bill’s grin and cheek and cocksurity seduce girl after girl, his mouth on a shapely throat as he caught Dave’s eye and winked.

Sometimes, at the end of drives, when Bill came back to their room smelling of sex and the cloying tang of cheap perfume, Dave stoped being shy and sucked him off while Bill carded his fingers through Dave’s sandy hair, alternately soothing and needling. Sometimes, he fucked Dave’s mouth; sometimes he told Dave he was a bigger slut than the girl he’d been with, that his mouth was sweeter, that Dave was the best he’d ever had.

+++

Bill disappeared for weeks, months at a time. Dave never asked, didn’t allow himself to imagine he had any claim on Bill. He stayed put, wherever they’d last been together. Lonely, taking the jobs he could find, drinking hard with his ears tuned to any mention of Bill. There were stories, now and then -- tales of daring robberies, angry husbands, shootouts with furious gangs. In Dave’s head, all of the stories were about Bill; he swelled with pride that this spectacular, untouchable bastard would be coming back to him.

When he returned, Bill was inevitably a mess: filthy, exhausted, and bruised, but cocky and charming as ever, throwing money around like it was nothing. On those nights, he was the life of the party: entertaining the men with tales of women and brawls, and blinding the women with his money, his smile, his audacity. Bill never said where he’d been, and no one cared -- they just wanted to be near him, to bask in the warmth of his attention.

On those nights, Bill was even more reckless than usual. He’d drag Dave into a backroom and fuck him with a hand over his mouth. It made Dave feel crazy; unhinged. He’d push back into Bill, wanting him closer, always closer. Bill would whisper in his ear -- “so good,” and “missed you,” and “love this” -- as he roughly brought Dave off.

+++

The feeling of Bill’s eyes on him when he kisses Connie is like nothing Dave’s ever experienced. Knowing Bill is watching, it’s all he can do to keep his focus on Connie: the feel of _her_ skin under his good hand, _her_ lips against his. He knows that they don’t care about one another, not really, but the fact that Bill is there, in the dark, watching, drives him on. She rides him with the efficiency she brings to everything, and brings herself off with her fingers, Dave’s bad arm tight against his own chest; the good one useless on her thighs, her breasts, her hips. He watches her as if from a distance, awed by her poise and single-mindedness, even as he wonders how it all looks to Bill — if he can see them in the dark. If he can hear them.

+++

The next morning, they’re sitting together on the hill outside the mine. Dave on his back, good arm behind his head, with Bill beside him propped up on his elbows, watching dawn break in the sky. It’s a moment of quiet before Bill has to leave, mounting Dave’s horse to draw Ivey and his men and their guns away from Dave and the mine. To keep Dave safe.

Bill leans down and kisses him, slow and deliberate like they almost never have time for. There's a finality to it that makes Dave ache. He chases Bill’s mouth when he pulls away, and Bill grins like a question he hasn't asked had been answered. Dave means to nudge Bill’s shoulder with his head, but somehow he finds himself cradled in Bill’s arm, head resting on his chest. Bill’s fingers comb carefully through his hair; Dave feels like he can't breathe.

“Thanks.” It’s all he can get out.

He feels rather than hears Bill’s dismissive grunt.

“You got nothing to thank me for, Kid. Not a thing.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes hi, I'm again obsessing over characters in a movie no one else has seen.
> 
> Title from The Midnight's _Lost Boy_. The full line is "We were shining, we were fool's gold."


End file.
